When We Met
by Sweet Darkling
Summary: 6 days ago, George had given up on happiness and love after Fred's death and breaking up with Angeline. But, as it turns out, a LOT can change in 6 days. Such as falling in love again.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter.

**Author's Note****:** So I love George Weasley and I love the character he'll be paired up with. And I've had the idea for this story for a while. It's completely based on and inspired by Jab We Met (a Bollywood movie starring Kareena Kapoor and Shahid Kapoor).

**When We Met**

**Chapter I**

Six days – less than a week but everything had changed in these six tiny days.

It had been six days since he had finally given up all hopes for living a happy life of any kind with Angelina. It had been six days since he'd escaped the disappointment and concern and claustrophobia of his family. It had been six days since he'd left England and arrived in this...country, this country that was absolutely nothing like England at all. It had been six days since he had met _her_ – _properly_ met her – as in (being forced to) spend prolonged periods of time with her. It had been six days ago that she had pretty much told her life's story to him, even if he had never wanted to hear it. It had been six days ago when he'd started to slowly fall in love with her and now...now, where was he?

George was looking at her, waiting for her answer, though he knew what it would be. Had she loved him or, rather, been in love with him, Angelina would have said yes the moment he'd asked. She wouldn't have looked at him with wide, uncomfortable eyes and asked him for some time to think. He was an idiot to have agreed to it. He should have ended their relationship the moment he realised they were both in it for the wrong reasons.

He didn't have the courage. Funny, that – that he was a Gryffindor, supposedly famous for their courage and he had never had the courage to break things off with Angelina. The consequences would be too much. Funny how they'd started off too – he'd hated her, she resented him living. Fred's death had devastated both of them (although he still thought that he suffered the most...). And once they'd stopped the hating and the resenting, once they started sharing the sympathy and consolation...they started falling for each other...sort of. It was a good escape. It stopped Ginny's well-meaning but stupid and painful words of comfort, stopped Molly's suffocating sympathy, Arthur's glances away and Ron's pitying looks. Even Bill and Charlie – he caught the way they looked at him sometimes, as if wishing they could help him in some way.

And they all stopped. All these looks, hurtful words of commiseration stopped when he started spending more and more time with Angelina. Apparently, the way to get over a twin's death was to date a girl. Or maybe date the twin's ex-girlfriend. He didn't know which. He wondered sometimes, oftentimes, what his family thought about it. Didn't it seem weird to them? It had seemed weird to him to begin with. Didn't it seem..._wrong_? Twisted? But it didn't matter. It had stopped the looks and they learnt to help each other cope, and somewhere along the line, chaste kisses became a little less chaste and they'd started going out with each other.

For all the wrong reasons.

And after a couple of years of dating, those looks and questions returned in a changed form. When was he getting married to her? Why doesn't he propose to her? Ginny saw the prettiest ring that would be perfect for Angelina and Hermione knew the best place for them to get married. And the nagging and questions returned with a vengeance, better than looks and words of condolences about Fred but only marginally. And, like the coward that he was, he'd given into them again. Taking Angelina to her favourite restaurant, they'd had a lovely date, even if none of it made his heart race. He'd taken her home to her apartment and went in with her and gotten down on one knee, taken out the ring Ginny had chosen and asked her to marry him.

Her eyes had widened, her mouth had dropped open and she'd stuttered that she'd needed some time to think. He'd agreed to it. His lack of concern should have made it obvious to him. It should have made it obvious to his family too, but it didn't. He'd come home to prying eyes and personal questions. And his answer had resulted in disparaging remarks about Angelina and he'd found himself angry and defending her. So they'd quietened down – for that night. The questions returned worse than ever. When is she going to give her answer? Why doesn't she just say yes, when it's so clearly not a no? Why doesn't she just say no instead of leading him on?

And reluctantly, he'd found himself tonight, preparing to demand a final answer from Angelina. And the problem was that he _knew_ the answer. He didn't like it but not for the right reasons – never the right reasons. He didn't want a return of the pitying glances and hurtful references to his dead twin. He didn't want that at all.

But here he was and there Angelina was, smiling, her expression showing a total lack of foresight. She looked the same as she always did – warm, spunky, hurt and still getting over it. He thought he probably looked the same...but worse, always worse. It's hard to lose a boyfriend and worse to lose a family member, but none of it was like losing a twin.

"We need to talk," he said, abruptly. There was no point in delaying it and less point is using social graces to make his point ambiguous.

It clearly worked. Angelina turned around, her eyes wide and startled, much like they had been when he'd first asked her. "Are you breaking up with me?" She asked in a would-be light-hearted voice. He wondered if she knew that she was pretty much spot-on.

He remained silent, looking at her. He didn't like this situation any more than she did. He liked the semi-comfort they found in each other but...where was it going? What were they doing? What would happen in the future? Such questions left a bitter taste in his mouth but he had to face them. "What's your answer?"

The silence fell around them again, uncomfortable and stifling. She was carefully avoiding his eyes, inspecting the floor. He kept his eyes trained on hers with an intensity he didn't realise he held in them.

Her mouth opened and closed, without a word uttered. She couldn't bring herself to say no, not after this small amount of comfort she had managed to find after Fred's death but...but the idea that this was all she could hope for, the idea that this was her future...she couldn't accept. He took the answer from her lips anyway.

"That's a no then," he said, his words dry and unintentionally biting. "Thank you for your answer," he added sardonically. Turning, he left her apartment without a second glance as she stared at him leaving with trembling lips and tears in her eyes.

When he arrived at home, he was fortunate to find only his parents, Charlie and Ron at home. One look at his countenance and both Arthur and Charlie looked away, resolving to say nothing until George should say something himself. Molly came to the opposite conclusion. "George," she began with but was interrupted by Ron, the least perceptive of all those present.

"George, are you going to Parvati Patil's wedding?"

Grasping at this excuse, he turned his attention onto his brother. "Parvati Patil's wedding? Am I invited?" Not that he particularly cared but still...

"Yeah, we all are." There was a furrow in Ron's forehead, indicated deep (and probably painful) thinking, as he added, "She's best friends with Lavender."

The attempted casual voice was wasted as George burst into chuckling that wasn't completely humorous. "Don't tell me you're still scared of meeting Lavender." George's eyes widened as he saw Ron's blush and defensive posture. "You're _still_ worried about meeting Lavender?" he asked derisively, shocked that his brother could be worried about such mundane thoughts after what the war had done to everyone. From what little he'd heard Lavender had been badly hurt, besides losing one of her cousins in the battle. He very much doubted she'd think twice about meeting Ron.

"It's also in India," Ron added defensively, as if that made any difference at all.

"I'd have loved to have gone there," Molly said wistfully. "But your father and I are visiting Bill and-" She grimaced, "Fleur, so we can't go. And Charlie's just started his new job – he really can't ask for a holiday so soon."

"I'll go." George surprised even himself with the words that left his mouth. He turned to a gaping Ron and added with a shrug, "It'll be nice to get out of the country." And away from all of you, he added mentally.

After pausing for thoughts – sometimes George really wondered how difficult it was for Ron to think – he said, hesitantly, "I can check with Harry and Hermione to see if they want to go."

George, relieved to have found an escape from his family so easily, headed to his room before Ron could voice every single one of the mundane thoughts in his head. This was just what he needed. And he'd make sure to take the longest route to arrive there a couple of days before the wedding. That way, he could avoid most of the drama that would be bound to take place between Lavender and Hermione. And avoid travelling with them too, since Hermione was bound to insist that they arrive at least a week early. Feeling a little cheerier, he lay on his bed, falling asleep almost instantly. Emotions were exhausting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer****:** Don't own Harry Potter. Definitely more focus on the Patils and less on Molly if I did own it.

**Author's Note****:** Hey, so here's the next chapter. Next chapter, George meets Padma and the actual actions/purpose of the story will begin. I just can't wait to a) delve into Indian culture, b) focus on non-Weasley and non-Golden Trio characters, and c) get the romancing rolling. As previously mentioned, it's completely inspired by, based on and an adaptation of the (frickin' brilliant) Bollywood film, Jab We Met.

* * *

**When We Met**

**Chapter II**

The next morning, when George woke up, it was with a suspiciously light feeling. It would be too much to say it was _happy_ or anything, but it was a better feeling than he'd had since the questions of marriage had begun. It took him a few minutes to remember why but when he did, he got out of bed immediately and got ready. If he wanted to leave by that evening, he'd have a lot of galleons to get from his vault and a lot of calls to make. And, unsurprisingly, he was looking forward to it all. That'd mean a _lot_ of hours away from his family and their questions, comments and pitying looks.

He found Ginny sitting at the kitchen table, having a late breakfast. He should've known his mum would call the only other Weasley who was as nosey as her and had as little problem with butting in. And predictably, she opened with a "Have you heard from Angelina yet?" the second she saw him.

That made his decision all the easier. Grabbing a piece of toast to eat on the way there, he left the house without giving an answer. Eating it as he walked away (stormed away, really), his mood worsened as he realised the foul piece of toast wasn't only cold, it was also unbuttered. In the end, he threw away the piece of toast. He'll grab a quick bite to eat after he sorted out his travelling plans.

He apparated in the International Wizarding Travels Building in London and had entered the place before he realised that he didn't have the information as to where to go and when to arrive.

As if his mood wasn't already bad this morning. Quickly wondering who to approach, he decided that his father would be the least prying. Deeming it faster to just see him in person, he once again apparated. It didn't take him long to reach his father's office – directly after the war, things had continued to be tense and the prevalent fear had caused family members to continually check on each other, especially those in the government.

"Hi..." He wasn't sure how to start, now that he was here. "Er, do you have the Patil wedding info, by any chance?"

Understanding gleamed in Arthur's eyes. George was grateful to him for not saying anything. "I've got the invite here." There was silence as he looked through his drawer, before producing a glimmering cream and gold embroidered elegant card. "Just...take care of yourself." An affectionate nod and these words were the only signs of how concerned he was for his son. They weren't unappreciated by George but there was little he could say, little comfort he could offer, so he merely said goodbye and left.

It didn't take him long to find out that travelling by floo to India would require several stops. Apparating was faster and easier on the stomach, with similar number of stops on the way and cheaper too. This would only take him as far as Delhi, however. In India, apparating was forbidden, due to the difficulty in finding suitably safe locations and the possibility of discovery. From Delhi, George would be required to floo or take a train to Gujurat (George chose the train route immediately – it would take him three days, which he would have to himself, to reach there). From Gandhinagar, he would then have to take a bus to reach the Patil house (he was told to remember the exact address – apparently, there were a lot of Patels in Gujurat), which would mean that he would arrive the day before the wedding.

It had to be fate. Or maybe his luck was finally changing, with the timings being so perfect. A wonderful, glorious four days completely free of his whole family. Yeah, George definitely needed this. The problem was telling his mum that he was leaving this very day, without her freaking out. Or crying. Or yelling. Or...just anything. Bugger.

It didn't matter. He paid for the Apparition tickets – a lot cheaper than expected but he was sure the train tickets would balance it out. He arrived home to find his mother back – presumably from shopping, he thought, as he eyed the grocery littering the kitchen.

"Mum?"

"George?" His mother's flustered countenance appeared from the other side of the kitchen table, before disappearing beneath it again. "I've bought the wedding gift for the Patils," she said, distractedly.

"Oh, that's good mum. I've bought the tickets to get there." Now for the hard part. "I'm leaving in a couple of hours. I hope that's ok..." Shit. _Shit_. He shouldn't have given her that opening.

As expected, his mother stood up immediately. "A couple of hours?" She asked tearfully.

George felt the panic building up inside himself, felt helpless to divert what was bound to be an emotional catastrophe. Until Charlie walked in. With a cheery grin and a quick kiss on their mother's cheek, he raised one questioning eyebrow at George.

"I bought my ticket for India, for the Patil wedding. I leave in a couple of hours."

"Aww and mummy's going to be missing you," Charlie cheekily said, successfully deflecting their mother's attention onto himself as she glared at him, indignantly. "Come on Mum, don't you love me? I'll still be around." He playfully pouted at her as George made good his escape.

An hour later, he had everything packed. Packed messily, of course, but done all the same. Heading back down to the kitchen, he was surprised to find Ginny there as well, sitting alongside of Charlie and his mother, who had been crying, if her red, puffy eyes were any indications.

"Hey, I'll be joining you soon for the wedding," Ginny cheerily told him, returning to her cup of tea.

"Sounds good," He forced out a smile.

"I heard the other twin's hot and _still _single," Charlie then said. "Try and get in with her, if you can."

Rolling his eyes at Charlie's advice, a genuine smile did tweak his lips upwards. Not that he had any intention of following said advice, but sometimes he forgot how understanding and supportive Charlie could be.

Finally, he turned to his mother. She stood up and, just as abruptly, walked over to him, throwing her arms around him and noisily tried to stifle her sobs.

"Mum? Mum, don't worry, I'll be ok," George said awkwardly, glancing wildly between Ginny, who looked close to giggling, and Charlie, who looked openly horrified.

"I know you will," He heard from the depths of his chest. "I just...want you...happy."

He immediately softened. He couldn't fault his mother for something like this, really, could he? But it didn't mean it was going to happen.

"I'll be back soon, mum," And she let him go, blushing a bright red and trying to dry her cheeks. He's not sure he heard right – he could have imagined it all – but he thought he heard her whisper, "I don't want to lose you too," before she had let go of him, leaving him with the familiar sick feeling he'd had since Fred's death.


End file.
